High Hopes
by Talliya
Summary: America is scandalous by default and England is a moron who only sees her as a child. Will these two ever tell each other the truth?
1. It Begins

OOC: Alright everyone.

YES this story is totally cliché, it's like a mushy romantic drama thing, it's the first fanfic I ever wrote. If you read the others you'll notice I got a bit better.

YES the only entity in the story whose name is 'canon' is Spain (because I adore the name Antonio), France is Miles because I HATE the name Francis, it's lame. While Arthur is a great name for England, bear with me, I did not know when I wrote this that the characters already had names. I hadn't read any fan fiction for Hetalia. I just happen to think the anime is amazing.

YES I made Netherlands a feisty redhead, they happen to have them there, I've met several.

And Misti is a totally made up 'fancy-lady'... just to make that clear. Also note that America is not a blonde... mostly because I'm American and I'm not a bloody blonde!

I do not own any rights to Hetalia.*

IC:

:It Begins:

England stood by the fire blazing in the hearth, looking back at the crying form on the bed with no remorse. The girl was sobbing brokenly into her hands, she felt awful, she'd believed his lies and given herself to him. Now she was ruined, she knew that her big brother would not forgive her.

England had finally had enough. "Take your things and leave my house. You and France are no longer welcome here. Tell him that for me, will you?" England was sickeningly sweet.

Morocco gathered her things and left.


	2. In Germany

:In Germany:

A few years later France and England were having a beer in Germany.

"So Andrew, why did you lie to my little sister?"

England sighed, "At the time I made the promise it wasn't a lie." France waited in silence an incredulous look on his face. "The 1720's were a crazy time. I loved her, or at least I thought I did. I made her the offer of marriage intending on following it through. But then she came to me, ready to give herself to me without the legalities taken care of. I'd already been thinking that I'd been too impulsive in offering for her-."

Frances tankard hit the table hard, sloshing beer all over his hand, "So you took her virtue anyway!? You lowly son of a-"

"Miles! Please, I wasn't finished." England curtly interrupted France's outburst. "As I was saying; she came ready to give herself to me just as I had decided to call the whole thing off." France twitched as if fighting for control. "I told her that I thought we should call it off, but she insisted on us seeing if she could change my mind. I got angry and took her at her word. I don't feel sorry for it, I won't. It was her fault. A lady should never throw herself at a man and expect to be denied." England's hand on his tankard had tightened with his rage and for fear of him breaking it France kept his silence until England's hand relaxed.

"You know I still hate you right?" France said flippantly.

"Ha! Miles, no worries there. I don't much like you either." And England held his tankard aloft and France clinked his own to it in a salute.

"Was that really all you wanted to ask Miles?" England queried after a while.

"No." France's face turned pensive and stand-offish. "You know that the twins are becoming more and more difficult to handle. Both have left out homes and participate in their own countries' politics." France paused not sure how to go on.

"Yes, America was rather decisive when she stormed out last fall. I haven't heard a thing from her since. Though her brother sends me many letters complaining about her antics."

France smiled indulgently. "Yes, Canada does have a rather large complaint streak. But his latest quip caught my attention. It seems that America has finally picked a name for herself-."

"Ahh, and what would that be?" England smiled an eager look in his eyes.

"Bell Smith." France's dead-pan voice carried the weight needed to crush England soundly. France watched as England's face fell and then ire took its place.

"What!" England exploded.

"Apparently we've been hearing much more about her than we thought, no?" France asked quietly.

England was stunned; the woman he'd been dying to meet was a little girl he already knew. "But she's only fourteen! She couldn't possibly be…" England spluttered shaking his head in shock.

"Well if you had let me finish mon ami you would know that I did not learn her name from Canada's letter."

"Then how do you know!?" England groused petulantly.

"Canada simply informed me that his sibling was all grown up and on her wayward way. When I wrote back asking what he meant by all grown up he said that she had to be at least twenty-four years old, and then whined about why he wasn't that old too." France shook his head in disgust. "But the fact remained that she was, apparently, now twenty-four. So I went ahead and found a recent picture of America that showed her as a highly sophisticated thirteen year old and sent it to Paraguay." England's eyes snapped at him and his grip tightened again. "I sent it along with a letter asking him if the girl was familiar to him."

"Why!? Why would you do that?!" England was furious.

"Andrew, we've both heard the rumors about Bell Smith; about how beautiful, fresh and intriguing she is, not to mention the line of broken hearts, empty bank accounts and limp dicks left in her wake." England just stared at France numbly. "Paraguay wrote me a rather heated letter, saying that if I ever saw that hell-cat again to string her to a tree by her pretty little neck and be done with her. That he would have nothing more to do with Bell Smith." France looked down at his drink, debated with himself for a moment, took a long swallow and continued timidly. "So I took the liberty of calling on her in Washington." England twitched, "She's just as lovely as we'd heard and certainly not a fourteen year old child. She's grown up; much like Northern Italy did to Austria. She… she…" France turned bright red and couldn't continue.

"She what?" England was harsh.

"She hit on me." France squeaked; England looked confused. "Normally I wouldn't mind a woman making the first move but this, this from a woman I helped to raise." France shook his head, "I… J'ai couru rapidement. Je ne…" France stopped at the annoyed look on England's face. "Que?"

"English Miles, English."

"Oh, I ran away, didn't look back. I've never been afraid of a woman before." France's gray eyes were lost and scared as he gazed at England.


	3. That Night

:That Night:

Later that night, back in his town house in London England got out all of his newspaper clippings that he'd collected on Bell Smith. "No wonder no one's been able to get a picture of the little minx, she wouldn't have allowed it. She probably knew that I would hear of her exploits and find a way to stop her." He mused aloud.

"Do you always talk to yourself like you're talking to someone else?" A soft feminine voice carried to him from the chair before the ornate fireplace across the room.

England spun around, "Who's there?!"

"Now, now England is that any way to speak to a guest?" A lithe red head stood up and came around the chair swaying enticingly.

"Netherlands, what are you doing here?" England groaned inside.

"Well France mentioned that you might be, out of sorts tonight. So I decided to come and comfort you." Netherlands gave England her most winsome smile, "You know you won't be disappointed. You certainly weren't when I 'helped' you last fall when America walked out on you."

Now England was angry, "I do NOT think of America in such a way! I was simply in need of company! For Christ's sake! She's only a child! And I want you to leave. That little affair last year was nearly the death of me! Get out!" England shouted.

Netherlands's face fell, "Fine! Have your precious little Miss Bell, just like everyone else!"

England flinched at her parting remark as she stormed out. England walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a brandy, downing it in one swallow he slumped onto the floor as it burned its way down his throat. "Shit."


	4. Meet America

:Meet America:

Bell was having the time of her life! As America she had been invited to a ball in London by some old friends from school. She wore a demure blue evening gown in the current English style with her auburn streaked chestnut hair pinned up in cascading curls - curls that had taken hours to obtain. America loved the party life, and that was the very reason she had left England for home in the first place. She absolutely, had to make sure that her own people did not turn out as sour as they'd started, or worse - become as dull as the English they had escaped! However, there was a slight damper on the whole thing; America had accepted the invitation without first thinking up an explanation for how old she suddenly was. So the shocked looks on Finland, Spain and Belgium's faces was like cold water in her own; until Czechoslovakia came in and explained the way things happen when a nation finally decides to grow up - since she herself had done the same thing during school had she not? Which, of course, she actually had. However since America was so much older now, ten years in fact, she would have to stay somewhere else.

So America bluffed, "That's alright Spain. England knows I'm here; I've actually been avoiding him all day. But I'll be staying with him, after a reaming of course." America smiled sheepishly and her friends laughed as the party began. When America could no longer feel her legs from dancing she decided it was time to go. "If I'm not dead in the morning I shall see you all again." America smiled warmly at her friends.

"Are you sure you don't want me to escort you to England's house?" Spain asked.

"I'll be fine Antonio, but thank-you my friend." And she left, disappearing down the streets of London. A few blocks down she was paused outside of beautiful ornate blue door, America raised her hand to ring the bell, "Please don't hate me." She prayed as she waited for the door to open.


	5. Going Home

:Going Home:

England had just finished filing all of the news clippings and the bottle of brandy; he was on his way to his bed, undressing along the way when the bell rang. "Who the bloody hell could that be!?" He cried out. "If Netherlands is back I'll choke her." He muttered on his way to the door. England paused before the door and looked down at himself in dismay; the bell rang again, "Bloody Hell." England yanked open the door wearing nothing but his slacks. "What!?"

America's mouth fell open in astonishment, England never looked like that! Well he had once, just after she won her independence from him, but she'd been a child then. America stared in wonder at him finding it hard to believe she'd never noticed how amazingly sexy England was.

"Who are you?" England was getting angry, this woman was just staring at him and not in an 'You aren't decent' way but in a way that was making him horny.

"Sorry," She looked up into his eyes; the never-ending green startled him, he knew those eyes. "Andrew, are you drunk?" America couldn't believe it, she'd never seen him like this before.

"America." England sighed her name sending chills down her spine. Suddenly England's eyes focused sharply on her face, "Why are you here?" He was angry now.

America stepped back as though he'd hit her, "S-Spain invited me to his ball tonight, but I couldn't stay there. There wasn't any room, so I came to ask if I could stay with you."

England stepped out the door and she backed up a couple of steps, clearly frightened. "You're afraid of me!? Me!? I've done nothing but take care of you." England growled moving to stand in front of her, this time America stood her ground, though she didn't know which was affecting her breathing worse: his bare chest inches from her face or how angry he was. "You, who've made such a _lovely_ name for yourself," He spat.

America flinched, "Paraguay deserved what he got! And I'll have you know that I'm still a virgin!" She screamed in his face, fighting back tears.

England reeled, "But the news…"

It was America's turn to be angry, "You'll believe anything if it's written in that stupid paper of yours, won't you! You wouldn't bother to write me and find out the truth, hell you haven't answered any of my letters!" She was crying now, angry little tears of disappointment.

"Hold on, what letters?!" England was lost and it was starting to snow. "Here," He wrapped an arm around America's shoulders. "Let's go inside."

Once through the door America took off her long coat and hung it in the nearby closet, then removed her shoes. England closed and latched the door, "I'll be right back." And he headed off to his room, picking up his discarded clothing as he went.

America smiled as she watched him, he really was adorable sometimes; she could see why Netherlands liked him so much. America's smile faded, thinking about Katrina made her angry all over again and she nearly stormed back out the door. But England came back just then, "You could have gone in and sat down silly." He informed her smiling.

"I…" She blinked, England looked amazing. He'd put on the turtleneck she'd got him when she was eight; England hated turtlenecks and had never worn it before. "I thought you hated those." Was all she could say.

England's smile faded into confusion, then he looked down at himself. Suddenly he felt self-conscious, "I, well… I like this one." His lamely coated excuse made her smile; he decided then that he would die before she knew it was the only one he owned. "Anyway," England gestured to the fireplace and America went and sat on the stool in front of the chair Netherlands had been in earlier; where England himself usually sat.

"It smells of sea foam over here." America scrunched up her delicate little nose in annoyance.

"Yes, I suppose it might," America flinched, something England didn't miss. "Netherlands decided it was perfectly alright to break into my house while I was gone, scare me half to death when I got back and then be angry when I made her leave." England growled remembering the nerve of the little she-demon.

America's head was bowed, she was trying very hard not to cry and feel sorry for herself. She'd worn this particular dress to Spain's ball because she'd been hoping England would be there and she'd thought that maybe now he would see her as something more than just a little kid he needed to take care of. But she was wrong, he had Netherlands, the stupid bitch, England didn't want her. America had always thought that she would marry England when she grew up, and now that she was a grown woman she still wanted that to happen, but she wasn't even going to get the chance. A tear slid down her face.

England had gone and grabbed the big quilt America and Canada had made for him when they were nine off of his bed and spread it out on the floor before the fire, which he'd started back up. England didn't want to sit in that chair until he'd cleaned it, the thought made him shudder. England looked back at his all-to-quiet companion and saw the tear. With a concerned frown on his face he raised his hands to cup her cheeks and wiped the tear away with his thumb. "What's wrong crumpet?"

America gave him a watery grin, "I hate crumpets."

England smiled, god she was beautiful, the dress hugged her curves and made her eyes pop. Staring at her, it took England a minute to realize that she was wearing his favorite color and it took him another few seconds to realize that he was still holding her head in his hands and that he was staring at her like a love-struck fool. England took his hands away and looked down sheepishly.

America was breathless; England had never looked at her that way. America looked down at him curiously, reaching out she ran her fingers through his shaggy dark blond hair.

England looked up at her and grinned, "Why don't you join me?" And he gestured to the quilt he was sitting on.

America looked down at it and blushed, "You still have that?" America's eyes flashed back to his.

"Of course I do, I also still have that poncho you made me." England chuckled at the memory.

"But it was too small!" America couldn't believe it; she sank down next to him in a daze. Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him close, planting a happy kiss on his cheek. England smiled and hugged her back before remembering that a proper English gentleman would be flustered by this sort of thing.

England grinned and pulled away, "Would you like some tea?" He asked, America looked indecisive, "Or hot chocolate perhaps?" He relented on a sigh.

America's green eyes shown, "You actually have the makings for that here?" She teased him. England leaned in and kissed her nose smiling. "Yes, actually I do." And England got up and went to the kitchen, he didn't miss America's startled look. "I wish I could make her look like that more often." England said to himself.

"You really shouldn't think out loud you know." America's voice entered his reverie as her arms wrapped around his waist; it was his turn to be startled.

"I-." England had been in the process of reaching into the cupboard for mugs; he slowly brought his arms down and laid his hands over hers. "I missed you America."

America smiled against his back, "I missed you too England."

England closed his eyes for a moment then turned in her arms and looked down at her. "Then why did you leave?" He could barely make the sounds over the lump in his throat.

America looked up at him as his arms encircled her, "Because I didn't want to become you. I'm not your copy." England looked aghast. "I knew I had to get away or I'd always be in your shadow. I didn't want that. I wanted, want, you to see me for myself. So I had to go and become myself." America paused for breath but at England's darkening expression she hurried on. "And before you start spouting about Paraguay having anything to do with it; I'll have you know that I emptied his bank account in a game of cards and his dick was limp because it will never be hard again, because it is no longer attached! No one tells an American that women are useless, empty-headed fools, only good for bedding and gets away with it!" America stomped her foot in emphasis.

England was looking down at her flushed face and dagger throwing eyes in wonder, suddenly he bent down and kissed her, full on her angrily set mouth. America squeaked in surprise and he raised his head a soft look on his face. America blushed and England turned away to grab the mugs down, a smirk on his face. "So, why did you hit on France?" He queried lightly.

America's blush deepened and she went to sit at the table. "Well, I actually wasn't serious. But it was so much fun to see the shock on his face!" Her eyes twinkled at the memory. "He's so used to people falling all over him that I couldn't refuse attempting to make him uncomfortable."

England beamed, "Well you certainly succeeded." England brought the steaming mugs to the table and sat down.

After a few minutes of companionable silence America asked, "So, if you never got my letters, then how did you know I was the one who trounced Paraguay? And I thought you no longer spoke to France."

England paused looking at her over the rim of his mug. "Well, I," He hesitated, put his mug down. "I was in Germany gathering information on someone who has been causing a lot of trouble lately." England leaned back in his chair. "France was there as well, "visiting" Boris. When I stopped by to say hello Boris foisted Miles onto me." England chuckled. "So we decided to grab a beer. And as to your exploits with Paraguay, that happens to be all over the news."

America looked up sharply, "What happened to him sure, but there's nothing that says America did it. When did you learn my name?"

England flushed, "I… Miles told me."

"Ahh, right, you did mention that I flirted with him." She gave an impish smile. "Anyway, would you mind if I stayed here a while?"

England smiled, "Not at all, stay as long as you like. Your room," England paused, "Your room is just the way you left it." England rose and gathered their mugs, cleaned them and put them away. "Goodnight."

America was in shock, when she'd left her room had been a disaster! England was a neat freak, that's actually why she'd left it in such bad disrepair. America got to her feet and warily ventured down the hall to her room and pushed open the door with her eyes closed. When no awful smell met her nose she cracked her eyes open. Her room was clean, everything was how she would have had it put away if she'd done so herself. America growled, "Nearly gave me a heart-attack!"

England smiled from his doorway down the hall, "Guess I'm not the only one who talks to themselves." He smirked.

America whirled around. "You, you cleaned it."

"Yeah, well, I thought you would be back." England was looking at the floor.

America walked over to him, leaned over and kissed his frowning lips. "Thank-you." She turned and went to bed. England stood there frozen for a long time before he turned and went to bed as well.


	6. England's Anger

:Englands Anger:

When America woke later that day she found herself on the receiving end of England's glare. "What!?" America shifted slightly to make sure she was fully covered by her sheets and blankets as she stared up at him.

England noticed the movement, "Where are your things?" His voice was gruff.

"I, um. Left them at Antonio's. All I have is what I came in, at the moment."

"Which means you have nothing on right now." England glowered. "You never did like underskirts and shifts and such." He sighed as he left the room, "Hurry up."

As soon as he shut the door America relaxed and put a hand to her racing heart. Slowly she got out of bed and got dressed, making sure she was socially acceptable before she left the room. She found England in the front room looking at a book laid out on a small table, "You look like that book just told you that Miles was your mother."

"Close enough." England snapped the book shut. "Would you mind explaining your choice of a name to me?" England's teeth were clenched.

"That's what you're so mad about?" America was lost.

"That? That!? Yes, THAT! Do you have any idea-. Any," England's face was turning purple, "Anything?!" He expelled completely furious.

America felt like he'd just shot her best friend. "What's wrong with it?"

England's ocean dark eyes snapped onto hers. "Everything!"

America flinched, "But, you and Miles gave it to me." Her voice was small and unemotional.

England looked disconcerted. "What?"

"When I was eleven Miles was always calling me La Belle, at the time I didn't get that he was calling me "The Beauty", but I always thought it was nice. And Smith is from all of the American's whose name is Smith. It seemed very American to me." America looked so sad that England didn't know what to do.

Abruptly England turned and went to the kitchen, "Why is she ALWAYS so cute!"

America sniffed back her tears and looked at the now closed book. She glanced back toward the kitchen and then moved over to the small table and opened the cover. "What?" America couldn't believe some of the hearsay that was written in the news clippings, but even more startling were the comments about her so-called actions done by England's own hand in the margins. America flipped to the last page: 'God, please allow me to meet this amazing woman just once!' was written next to her latest big splash, one that was in fact true. The noise of frying eggs came from the kitchen; America closed the book and went over to the front window and pulled back the curtain. The lawn and road out front were pristine white and more of the fluffy chill was falling as she watched. "So much for walking back to Antonio's and getting my stuff." America turned away and saw the quilt still laid out before the fireplace, she smiled to herself and went to pick it up. It seems England was being rather untidy lately; America held the quilt to her face and breathed in the smell of England, closing her eyes in pleasure.

England was greeted by the heart-stopping sight when he came out to get her for breakfast; he simply stopped and stared for a while before clearing his throat. America's eyes popped open and she lowered the quilt guiltily, "Breakfast is ready America." England sounded mechanical even to his own ears and cringed as he turned back into the kitchen.

America frowned and folded up the quilt placing it on the stool before going off to the kitchen, "Is there a reason you're grumpy with me? Besides the obvious tracks about me leaving and then coming back here unannounced to ask for a place to stay." America stood by the table her fists on her hips.

England glanced up at her from his seat and had to resist several urges to kiss and strangle her before he could answer. "Well, now. Aren't we just being tottie? Would you just sit down and eat America?" England didn't know what to do with her, really; he knew what he wanted to do with her, but that was out of the question.

"What is wrong with my name Andrew?" America ground out, tapping her foot on the floor as she waited for his answer.

"Nothing, why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you were chewing me out about it a couple of minutes ago and you have yet to use it!" America would never admit it, but she was very hurt by that.

England stood and left the room, his breakfast in hand.

America slumped into a chair and ate her breakfast in defeat, when she was done she washed all of the dishes used for breakfast and put everything away. She sat at the dining table for a long time hoping England would come back, but he never did. America finally picked herself up and went into the other room, the quilt was now gone and there was a fire going. America went and sat on the stool in front of the fireplace, the area still smelled of sea foam; which made her extremely angry, so she went to the 'cleaning closet' and got out some cleaning supplies and started scrubbing the smell out of England's chair, being careful not to harm her dress. America had just finished drying out the chair and making herself presentable again when the bell rang at the front door. America peeked down the hall at England's closed room and then went to answer the door.

The sight that greeted her was rather unwelcome, "Oh, well I see Andrew moves fast." Netherlands blinked at the stunning young woman before her.

"What are you doing here Netherlands?" America was annoyed.

"Wait a minute! That fact is highly confidential!" Netherlands was shocked and slightly angered. "England must think a great deal of you Miss Smith." Netherlands seethed.

"Yes, I'm sure he must Katrina, I'm sure he must." America grinned benignly; it seemed Netherlands didn't recognize her as America at all. "Though I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." And here America's face fell. "Do come in. Andrew is in his room. I'm sure you know where that is." America said pointedly as she moved to sit in the big chair she'd so recently cleaned and put her feet up on her usual stool. Effectively cutting off the other country's preferred seating options.

Netherlands was quite upset with the treatment until she remembered that Bell Smith was an American and they had no manners. Netherlands smiled devilishly and walked down the hall to England's door. She didn't bother knocking but just tried the door, it was locked.

America hung her head as she heard Netherlands simply try the door, proving that what America had thought about them being together was true. Then Netherlands started knocking and calling for "Sweet little Andy" to be a 'dear' and open the door for her. All remaining hope America had held onto about herself and England drown in her tears.

Netherlands tried for hours to get England to open his door to no avail, America was trying rather hard not to laugh about or be sick over how the redhead was acting.

The doorbell rang again so America hopped up to answer it. "Morocco! What are you doing here?"

The small dark-skinned beauty looked up at America and smiled mischievously. "America! You are so grown up! You are truly lovely my dear."

"Misa" America smiled and hugged the smaller woman when she opened her arms.

Suddenly there was a loud screech from down the hall. "Ah, Katrina is still here then." Morocco grinned when America rolled her eyes. "England called me up and asked if I wouldn't mind taking France's slut back to him. And that I was to tell Miles that the bad blood between the three of us would be forgotten as long as Andrew never has to hear or see Katrina ever again." The smaller country chuckled like a school girl as she walked down the hall.

America couldn't believe it; England had actually called on Morocco for help. She blinked, stunned for a while before closing the door and peering down the hallway. Morocco was yanking on Netherlands's long hair and pulling her down the hallway. Morocco simply grinned up at America and gestured at the door when she and the banshee got to her. America opened the door for them and watched with a bemused smile as the four-foot-flat country drug the six-seven hell-cat out into the snow.

"You should probably close the door now Bell." England said, coming up behind her.

America jumped and looked over her shoulder at him. "Right." America closed the door and watched through the window as Netherlands was hauled along the street.

England grinned behind her, "I knew there was a reason I had wanted to marry Misa."

America twitched, "So why didn't you?"

"Because of you."

America whipped around to see him moving toward his chair. She marched over and planted herself on the stool while England tentatively sniffed his chair. "What is that supposed to mean? I've always loved Misa! And it would've been nice to have another woman around." America huffed.

England was staring at his chair, "Hello. You going to answer me or what?!"

"You, you cleaned my chair."

America blushed and looked at the fire, adding some more wood to the dying flames. "Yeah, well, I thought you would be back." She repeated quietly.

England smiled down at her as he sat down, "I think we need to work on our communication."

America turned a questioning gaze back at him. "What do you mean?"

"I love you." England said simply.

America looked at him confused, "I love you too?"

"No. See, you don't understand what I mean." England covered his face with his hands, "I need you. -" The ringing of the bell shattered the moment and England swallowed the rest of his words as America went to answer the door.

"America! I brought your stuff." An unfamiliar man in Spanish formalwear announced cheerfully.

America blinked several times, "Antonio?"

The man giggled abashedly, "Uh, yeah, hi."

"Oh, wow. Oh! Do come in," America grabbed one of her bags and led the way to the side closet. "Thank you for bringing my stuff."

"No es problema. I had errands to do today so I thought I'd stop by here when I was finished. I thought you wouldn't want to ruin your special dress by walking over and getting it all yourself." Spain's eyes looked hopeful, much like the look a dog has when waiting for approval.

"Yes actually." America smiled. "Would it be awkward now for me to hug you?"

Spain's eyes bugged, "I…" He blinked, "I shouldn't think so, no. We are still best friends yes?"

America grinned and hugged her oldest friend, well oldest next to her twin. By this time England had stood up and come over to the doorway, looking over America's shoulder Spain suddenly stiffened.

"What's wrong Toni?" America looked up into his clearly frightened chocolate eyes. America looked over her shoulder and couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up at England's greedily over-protective expression. Her laughter broke the stillness and Spain straightened and said good-bye to both of them and closed the door on his way out.

"What exactly is so funny Miss Smith?" England asked mock anger in the stressed title.

America looked up into England's clear blue eyes, "Your expression my Lord. What else?" America asked innocently before she busted up laughing again.

However, in her laughter she missed the gleam in England's eyes before he swept her up in his arms and sat down in his chair settling America on his lap. America's giggles ceased as she looked down at him. England raised his hands to America's face and gently pulled her mouth down to his. The kiss was slow and searching, light; as though England was afraid she would pull away from him.

America's first response was surprise, but when she realized she wasn't dreaming she leaned into him, placing her hands over his slowly racing heartbeat and closed her eyes, kissing him back.

"Mmm." England groaned and slid his tongue across her lips tracing them.

America parted her lips slightly and sneakily rested her own tongue at the opening, waiting for a taste. When England's tongue found hers she sighed in bliss and the war started.

England pulled back to replace his oxygen watching as America sleepily opened her eyes and smiled.

England paled, "Shit."

America blinked at him and frowned as England placed her on the stool and then headed off to his room again, locking the door behind him.

Incredulous America got up and took her suitcases to her room and locked her own door before going to bed.


	7. Next Morning

:Next Morning:

When America awoke the next morning the sun was just newly risen, so she set her plan in motion. Obviously England didn't want her, the previous night proved that. So now she was going to be annoying until he either got the point or married someone else!

"The git was probably imagining that I was Misti! God I hate that woman, that… whore!" America shouted angrily as she redecorated her room to a style that fit her life as a mature female as opposed to the frills of her girlhood.

America never left her room throughout the sunlit hours; she ignored England's pleas and even those of her friends when England called on them for help. Hunger got the better of her after the sun had set and she ventured to the kitchen, made some soup and went back to her room. America had just finished the last touches to her abode when she heard a vaguely familiar voice out in the parlor.

"She's been holed up in there all day! She came out exactly once to eat and she completely ignored everyone when she did so!" England was highly upset.

"Well what did you expect her to do? She came back here because she's in love with you and what do you do? You kiss her only to act like it was the biggest mistake of your life!"

Only one person knew that fact, other than herself. America walked over and unlocked her door and opened it a crack as silently as possible.

"I'm surprised she hasn't decked you yet, any other American would have by now. Heck, 'I' feel like punching you! Yer just a stupid ol' man after all eh?"

"Roy!" America launched herself down the hall and into her twins waiting arms.

"Hey Bells! Causing the ol' man trouble, eh?"

America smiled up at Canada, "You finally got taller than me did you?" She giggled.

"I am so lost." England threw up his hands and went to make tea.

"So how come you're here?" America asked.

"I am here because I have been called by England, Spain, Belgium, France, Morocco, Netherlands, Finland and Czechoslovakia; because they are all worried about _you_." Canada stated pointedly, "I was also called up by your boss last night."

"What?! Why? What's happened?" America was a bit frantic.

"Take a chill-pill. Geez. He was worried about you actually. Apparently with the Reconstruction there've been some issues cropping up with immigrants."

America's eyes widened, "Oh, no! That's awful! I really need to get myself under control."

"You do. But so does England and Netherlands."

England stormed across the room from the kitchen door, "Me and Netherlands have to do what?!"

America laughed outright while Canada stared at England in amazement.

"It's 'Netherlands and I'," America corrected England's English. "And you need to control yourself. Apparently the upheaval I've caused here has been getting into the attitudes of our peoples."

England was speechless for a few moments, "Then maybe you should work on that."

Canada knocked him for a loop.

"Roy! What was that for?" America couldn't believe what her peaceful sibling had just done.

"Because he deserved it." Canada went in and finished making the tea while America flung England over her shoulder and carried him to his room. When she didn't come back Canada got worried and went after her; what he saw was unbelievable.

Drawings filled the walls of the normally plain room, all of them were drawn by England himself and all of them were of Bell Smith. They were obviously done by description, but they very much resembled his twin.

Canada spotted America leaning over England looking at something on the nightstand across England's bed. America didn't seem to notice him as he came around the bed to see what was so interesting. There was a small box on the stand next to a drawing of England himself proposing to Bell, Canada snatched up the box and opened it. Inside were two wedding rings and an engagement ring. Canada looked over at his sister, who was still looking at the picture; she was crying.

"What's wrong?" Canada had thought that she would be happy with the development.

"He wants Bell Smith."

"Yeah, and?"

"But not me." America fled the room as England came to. Canada smashed his face in again and walked out.


	8. Without Her

:Without Her:

When England woke again it was morning and the house was entirely too quiet. He got up and went to find out just why the hell he'd been knocked out, not once, but twice the night before, marching to Canada's old room first. There was nothing there. He went to America's room and pounded on the door, when he didn't get an answer he tried the door. It opened on an empty room.

England just stood there, "She, she left again. And she's not coming back at all this time." England hung his head and went back to his room.

For the first time in months he really saw it, all of the drawings he'd done that he now realized he'd been basing more off of photos of America than the descriptions of Bell in the news. England looked down at a recent drawing on his nightstand and noticed that the ring box was gone. England panicked and tore apart his room looking for it. Leaving the mess he checked every room, finally coming to the kitchen. The box was setting on the table; he lunged for it and checked for the rings. All of them were there, along with a baby ring. He stared at that small promise for hours before seeing the note on the table.

'I hate you. You can keep the baby ring; I certainly don't need it anymore. ~America' Was all it said.

The bell at the door rang and England went to answer it in a trance.

"Bonjoure mon ami! Canada came by and told me that I should give you this." France held out a letter, England took it; it was addressed to him from Canada, not America like he'd hoped. When England looked back up France was gone, turning a corner halfway down the street.

'Hey, Old Man! Does your world look bleak yet? Honestly, my sister is almost as stupid as you are. Anyway, America has come to the conclusion that you will never see her as anything except a child you feel obligated to take care of. Do you have any idea how much she loves you Andrew? Any idea at all!? She's wanted to marry you since she was four! You always thought she was joking and after you met Misa, Bell convinced herself that it was all a joke as well. Well here's the deal moron! It wasn't a joke. America wants you to be happy and she's convinced that either Misa or Katrina will do better than her, so she's not going to bother you anymore. She even mumbled something about 'you having Misti if nothing else, so whatever.' God! I've never seen her so depressed, not even her recent Civil War did this to her, and then she had a goddamned split personality! So anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I hate you. ~Canada'

"Bloody fucking Hell!" England ran to his room and got dressed, raced to the kitchen to grab the ring box, and then he was gone; on a plane to the United States.


	9. Marry Me

:Marry Me:

America was back at work in the 'White House', as it was generally referred to as. She was methodically going through bill after bill separating them by issue covered and importance of said issue to the people, then by the date they were submitted. The oldest ones were the once she was going to go at first. Rectifying her Constitution always made her feel funny, she could feel the changes happen as soon as the ink dried on the papers.

"Hey! You can't go in there! She requested we keep EVERYONE out!" The yelling was coming from the hall to her office.

"Like I give a bloody fig! America, Bell Smith, La Belle, I don't much give a shite what she calls herself! She's damn well going to listen to me!"

America's eyes widened, she didn't even have time to stand up, let alone run away, before England angrily threw open her door. The prissy country was livid; his face flushed and eyes blazing. America froze, "You just stay there!" England yelled at her as he slammed the door and locked it. England prowled across the room to her and leaned toward her over her large mahogany desk, placing his palms flat in front of her work space. "I am sick to death of being told that I am hated-"

"Then maybe you shouldn't be such a prick."

"-or that I think a certain way. But what I really don't like is that you are the one who said it." England began, ignoring America's flippant remark. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring encrusted with sapphires, diamonds and rubies. "This is something you are not at liberty to give away." England pulled a cord off of his wrist, slid the ring on it and tied the cord around America's slender neck.

America stood up, "Get out." She pointed to the door.

"No." England came around the desk, grabbed America by her arms and pushed her back into the wall and kissed her with all the frustration in him.

America resisted and pushed him away, "What are you doing!? Get away from me! DON'T touch me."

England paused, "But that's all I've ever wanted to do." America's eyes widened. "I used to sit next to you and watch you sleep just so I could touch your hair or your hands, rub your back when you were sick. As you got older I had to resist the urge to kiss you more and more often. You were only a child, I wasn't allowed to touch you and I felt horrible that I wanted to so desperately." England's ocean blues lowered, he couldn't look at her anymore.

"Did you know that I was Bell Smith the whole time?

The odd question made him look up. "No, why?"

"All of those drawings you did, even ones where you couldn't have had that great of a description. They all looked like me."

England looked down embarrassed, "I based them off of pictures I had of you."

America walked over to him from the window she'd escaped to. "Andrew," England looked up, startled by how close she was. "Kiss me."

England's blue eyes softened, he leaned forward and did as he was bid. Capturing America in his arms he kissed her until he was dizzy from lack of air. "I love you." He sighed looking into her forever-green eyes.

America smiled, finally happy. "I love you too." She rose up and kissed him again.

They pulled apart at a knock on the door, "America?" President Johnson's voice was concerned.

"Yes? Oh, hold on, the door's locked." America moved over and unlocked the door swinging it open. "Yes?"

"I was told England was here."

"He is."

England came up behind her, "What can I do for you Mr. Johnson?"

Johnson grinned, "You can marry this silly young woman!" He pointed dramatically at America.

America's eyes bugged, but England just chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. He rested his head on her shoulder, "I can do that." England's eyes twinkled mischievously. "However, her agreement IS required for that one." He turned America around to face him, "Beloved, will you marry me?"

America blinked. The pause was long enough that president Johnson's face fall as he lost hope. Then America threw her arms around England and kissed him soundly. "Absolutely!"


End file.
